Mary and Francis, 5 and 1
by Swa-Sa Masou
Summary: Many Fandoms have stories written as Five times and one time . This is mine for Frary: five not connected one-shots of how their encounters could have ended differently and one encounter we all wanted to see. Warning: As is a central idea to season 2b of the show, Mary's sexual assault will play a key role in these stories.
1. One

_A/N: A set of 5 unconnected AU's that saved Mary and Francis' relationship from the pain of Mary's affair and one encounter many of us wanted to see._

 _Warning for chapter 1: it begins as Mary is about to be raped._

1.

"Hold her down." Mary heard the voice of one of her attackers as though he was speaking down a hallway. Her vision began to blur. A million different, and useless, thoughts flooded Mary's mind of what she could say or do in this moment to keep this from happening to her. None of it was going to make a difference. She struggled against their strong arms and received a smack to the side of the head for it. She searched frantically for a weapon of some type that would be within her reach but to no avail.

This was going to happen.

And what would happen once this one man was done? The other two had seemed hesitant about this plan to begin with, but once one man had his fill would the other two take a turn? Her stomach turned with the idea as a man hovered over her into her line of vision. Would they kill her when they finished with her? She felt blazing and freezing at the same time and couldn't make her arms move more than a few inches as his hot breath fell on her face. He was removing her undergarments, but in his haste, he was struggling to move them out of his way.

Suddenly his face morphed to one of pure pain. Why would he be in pain? He was inflicting pain on her.

The weight holding her arms fell away and she was aware of the clanging of metal, shouts, screams of pain. Pushing herself into a seated position and half-crawling, half dragging herself backwards, she settled into the bedcurtains, trying to shield herself from the din. Looking around the room, tears pouring down her face, she managed to make out a halo in the midst of the clanging.

No. It wasn't a halo. It was golden hair, flashing in the candlelight.

Francis was here. Francis would save her. Francis would make everything all right.

Faith that she hadn't felt in her husband in weeks came flooding into her. Mary's vision started to clear as the panic seeped out of her. Bodies lay dead or dying on the floor, the only man still alive was fighting Bash, giving Francis the opening to draw a short blade across his throat. As the last man fell, both of her rescuers, panting and covered in blood, turned to face her.

Bash turned his attention to Francis. "You'll be all right here? I want to go check on Kenna."

Without removing his eyes from Mary, Francis replied, "Yes, go. See that she's unharmed."

Bash exited the room swiftly and, as his footfalls faded, the sudden silence was jarring. Francis knelt to set his blade on the floor. He was moving as though Mary was an animal he did not want to spook. "Mary. It's over. They're dead."

Mary looked at him but said nothing. She was still concentrating on piecing together what had just happened. From the time those men had entered her room until now couldn't have been more than five minutes, but time wasn't making sense. Each stroke of Francis' sword had seemed to move agonizingly slowly. His voice and Bash's had sounded garbled as most of what she could hear was her own heartbeat, pounding.

He stood back up slowly, showing both of his hands, palms out, to her. "Mary, I'm going to approach you. Is that acceptable?" His voice was growing clearer, but so was a harsh rasping sound. With a start, Mary realized it was her own breath and fought to calm it.

Francis had taken two steps toward her, still at a slow place, still with a very concerned look gracing his features. "Mary?" He stopped his advances. Mary wondered why. All of his behavior was strange. Usually, Francis would have come to her side swiftly and embraced her.

Mary became more aware of her body and realized that she was clutching at the bed curtain harshly enough to tear it, tears still fell and felt hot on her face, and that she was shivering. She must have still looked terrified.

Francis was waiting on her to say something, "Francis?" At least, that's what she tried to say. What left her mouth had been strangled out in her throat. It had hurt to try to speak. Reaching up to massage the outside of her throat, she felt the flesh was tender to the touch. Clearing her throat, despite the pain, she said more clearly this time, "Francis."

He crossed the rest of the space between them and fell to his knees beside her to gather her into his arms. The tears that had been slowing started again as her weight fell against her husband. Sobs wracked through her body. Their heads both snapped around as they heard rustling near the door.

Catherine was standing there, framed by the light of the hall and flanked by guards. Relief shot through her face as she saw the two of them on the ground clearly alive. "Francis, Mary, what happened?" She took in the state of the room, bundled up her skirts, and crossed to stand in front of them.

Turning to her guards, she said, "You two, remove the bodies from this room, but don't dispose of them. We will need to investigate and check their bodies for affiliations. You two, find servants to prepare the queen's old chambers for the king and queen tonight."

Twisting back to Mary and her son, her voice grew more tender. "Child, if what I think transpired in this room did indeed happen, you will need to lock that away for the moment. Both of you need to come with me, need to clean up, and will need to address your people as soon as possible. It will be hard, but you are a strong woman and you can do this. You cannot show weakness right now." Catherine held out her hand.

Francis started to protest, "Mother, you've no idea what I saw when I entered this room tonight."

The look Catherine gave him could have turned a running river to solid ice. "Francis, I believe I have a very good idea."

Francis tried again, "Mother-" but this time was interrupted by Mary.

"No, she's right." Mary sniffled and consciously slowed her breath for a few moments before taking Catherine's proffered hand. Francis stood with her, not fully removing his arms from around her, the three of them walked down the corridors until they reached Catherine's rooms.

Leaving the guards outside and securing her door, Catherine let Mary and Francis have a moment together before she interrupted.

"Mary, Mary, I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now." Careful of the bruises he could see forming around his wife's neck, Francis gingerly cupped her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes. "I love you. I will always protect you."

Meeting his eyes, Mary laced her fingers with his and drew his arms around her again and then raised hers to cling onto him. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't made it to me in time. I don't know what they would have done to me, what line they wouldn't have crossed. I can't thank you enough, Francis."

Catherine cleared her throat, drawing their attention, "So that we're all clear on exactly what we're dealing with and how to proceed, I will only ask you this once, Mary. Were you raped?"

Looking at Catherine, Mary responded in a voice that she hoped wouldn't catch, "No, Francis made it to my side in time. He stopped them."

Looking into the loving eyes of her husband, she continued, "Francis saved me."


	2. Two

_A/N: In some cases rape victims very much act as Mary does in the show. In other cases, they react less with fear and more with shame. Warning for chapter 2: it's about Mary coming to terms with her rape ordeal with Francis' help._

2.

Francis burst into his mother's chambers. "Thank the Lord you're both safe!" He smiled at his mother, gently touching her arm before turning to his wife. He tamped down the impulse to run to her when he took in her appearance. Although there wasn't anything wrong with it, she just looked _off_. Her eyes, which always held a spark in them- of love, anger, power, purity, despair- a spark of any kind, looked dull. He couldn't place it, but overall, Mary just looked _broken_.

He seemed frozen himself, before shaking it off and turning to his mother. "We were told all of the attackers had been killed or fled before making it to anyone's rooms. We were told everyone was safe." The look on his mother's face told him that this wasn't true.

Catherine took a few steps toward her son and then reached out for his hand. "Francis, we lied. Mary performed beautifully from her throne. She kept as brave a face as anyone could have asked and her voice rang out strong. You've a very strong wife, but something terrible has happened to her.

Francis tore his hand from his mother's grasp and fell at Mary's feet. "Mary, what happened?" Panic rose in his voice as his eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin, seeking out any signs of damage. There! Just visible under the ruff of her collar, her perfectly creamy throat was beginning to show signs of bruising. He reached for her hands, but was only rewarded with her pulling them back and wrapping her arms around herself as he tried.

Mary sniffled. She had broken his heart before, but the pain he felt now, even without knowing the story, from his wife refusing his small comfort in that moment, made him feel less than the lowest speck. "Mary, please, speak to me." He moved from his position in front of her to join her on the sofa. Just as he reached out his hand to her shoulder, as he was millimeters away, she abruptly stood and covered her face in her hands. The movement exposed her wrists, which were also starting to turn purple.

Lost, Francis turned back to his mother. "What happened? Why won't she allow me touch her?" His voice broke as he held back tears, "Why won't she say anything?"

Catherine hesitated before ignoring her son's question and going to Mary. She slowly touched Mary's shoulder. "Mary." Mary was gazing around Catherine and at the fire, seemingly trying to mentally be anywhere but in this room. "Child, you must look at me. The only way I can help you is if you let me." Mary met her eyes and raised her head. "Mary, can I tell him? He needs to know, but it should come from you."

Mary's eyes flicked to Francis' before returning to Catherine and for the first time since entering the room, Francis saw a small amount of emotion in them- defiance. Gingerly touching her throat, Mary addressed Catherine, "I don't want to tell him. I don't want him to know."

Mary stepped around Catherine and reached for a book sitting on the table to begin rifling through its pages.

Catherine, though sympathetic to the young Queen's plight, was not one to be shut down with such an argument, "Mary, if you will not tell him, I will. It affects you both and it could affect the future of France, and of Scotland!"

At that, Francis stood up, intending to speak, but not knowing what to say. How could this affect the future of France and Scotland?

Mary was shaking, though with barely controlled sobs or rage, Francis couldn't tell. Her face had grown red. "This can stay between us! He doesn't need to know!"

Catherine's voice rose as well, her anger at Mary's insolence getting the better of her. "Mary, that is absurd. He is your husband and needs to be told of this!"

Mary took breath to respond, but Francis cut her off. "Mother! Stop. You're only upsetting her more. Thank you, for your help, but if I could have a moment with my wife, it would be greatly appreciated." Catherine looked ready to object, but simply nodded and crossed the room to take the book from Mary's hands.

The pair watched her reach the doors before turning back to address Mary, "I'm sorry, child, but he needs to know." Her gaze flipped to Francis, "She was attacked and raped in your rooms." Catherine grasped the door's handle and pulled to exit the room.

Silence rang throughout the room as the heavy door banged to a close. Francis slowly turned from the direction his mother had just left to look at Mary. Mary was standing stock still, her arms were back around herself and she had her eyes locked on Francis, waiting for any type of reaction. She looked terrified of his reaction now that the words were out there.

Mary had been raped. His wife, the woman who he had been doing all of this to protect, had been raped. Men had broken in to the castle and had had the audacity to attack and assault his wife?! Mary was an angel and for any man to lay a hand on her in anger was an affront to God, Francis was sure of it. Anger was coursing through Francis' veins. "Are they dead?" a crease appeared on Mary's forehead, but she said nothing. "Are the vile pieces of filth that dared to harm you dead? If they are not, I promise you that by the time I am done with them, they will pray for death."

Mary stayed where she stood, but unwound her arms from her own waist and clasped her hands in front of her. "Good." The word uprooted Francis.

He took quick steps until he was standing in front of Mary, but he did not make a move to touch her, remembering her earlier refusals.

Francis reached out a hand and Mary took a step back. "Mary, please, these were monsters who violated you. I'm not going to hurt you. I love you." Francis' tone had turned back to desperate, imploring.

Mary looked to the floor. "Francis, I'm so sorry."

He let out a sigh, "Why are you sorry? You've done nothing wrong, Mary. Please, allow me to hold you." He reached out a hand again and she shrank away from it.

Her voice was barely controlled, "Francis, I came to you a virgin. I had known no other men. Tomas and I were never together, nor Bash and I. You were the only man I had ever been with." Sobs overcame her and she sank to the ground in that very spot. She reached for anything nearby to stabilize herself. She found nothing and ended curled around herself on the ground. Tears streaming, she continued, "Until tonight. That man… those men. They took that from you, Francis."

Francis stooped next to her, unsure of what to do or to say. He knew that rape happened in his kingdom. He would have to be a simpleton not to know that it occurred. However, he had never dealt with it. He had never been told how to act around a woman it had happened to. He had also never seen his wife looking so broken. Even when she had lost their baby, she had been inconsolable, but she had not looked defeated like this.

"Mary, I still love you. I'm furious beyond words with those who did this to you, but how could I ever be mad at you about this?" He sat next to her, close enough to wrap his arms around her if she would permit it, but far enough that space still existed between them.

Francis reached a hand to Mary's face and for just a fraction of a second, she leaned her head against it before sharply pulling it away. "Francis, please, don't touch me. I can't bear it. I feel so dirty. I feel like I betrayed you and I can never be clean. I've scrubbed at my hands and face, my wrists, at least ten times since coming in here, but I can still feel their hands. I can still feel his breath on my face. I can't have you touching me like this."

Swiping at her eyes and sitting up a tad straighter, Mary whispered, "they took what belongs to you and I let them." She shook her hair out of her face and met Francis' eyes. "Francis, I'm so, so sorry."

He settled back and looked at his beautiful wife. He realized how much of this was likely his fault and here she was blaming herself for something completely beyond her control. "Mary, being with you isn't something I could possibly own. No one can own you. You are vibrant, brilliant, strong, persuasive, and beautiful beyond description. I count myself lucky in a way that surpasses my comprehension that you give yourself to me and that you've vowed to be with me for our lives, but that still doesn't make you mine except for when you give yourself to me. They cannot possibly have taken anything from you. What those monsters did was attacked you. I can't stand you blaming yourself when it's more my fault than anyone else's anyway."

Mary's sobs had ebbed away and her eyes had dried during his speech. However, confusion had returned to her features. "Francis, you were leagues away. You can't blame yourself for not being here to stop it."

Francis stood and clasped his hands behind his back as he looked into the fire. "Mary, the men who attacked the castle were all Protestant extremists. They attacked because of the laws I've been allowing regarding their peaceful practice of their religion. Laws I've only been allowing because I've been being blackmailed."

Mary also stood, "Blackmail? Francis, what kind of blackmail could anyone be holding over you?" She kept her distance, but moved into his line of vision.

"Narcisse," Mary hissed as Francis said that name. "He knows that Montgomery was not the one to kill my father in that jousting tournament. It was me. I would have called his bluff if I was the only one in harm's way. Then I discovered that you and my mother tried to kill my father the previous day. You two would have been implicated as well and I couldn't let that happen." Meeting Mary face to face, his voice dropped. "I've allowed awful things to transpire because I couldn't get a hold over him. That's where I was tonight. Bash and I have been trying to pay off witnesses so that I can defy Narcisse and it will be my word against his. It's done. I can reverse everything. That doesn't fix tonight. If none of this had happened, you would not have been a victim of a violent attack tonight. Mary, it's my fault and I cannot be more sorry."

Mary lifted her hand and almost made it to the side of head, as though she was going to run her fingers through his hair, but she dropped her arm at the last moment. "Mary, if you wish to touch me, please don't be afraid to do so. I would welcome it."

Wringing her hands, Mary began to pace. "I can't, Francis, I just can't right now." Stopping mid-step and turning back to her husband, "but nor can you blame yourself for this. You acted out of love and to protect me. You saved France from a man who was shaping up to be a tyrannical ruler and have done everything you could to make your people safe. All of your actions fall into place with this information. Meanwhile, I sat in our rooms, angry with you. Pulling away from you. I was so upset with you that I wasn't prepared. I had taken to carrying a dagger with me after what happened to your mother and I on the road and tonight I didn't have it with me. I should have been prepared. I should have found a way to run as soon as they entered the room. I know those passageways as well as anyone. I could have lost them. I could have hidden in the dark and fought back, I could have done something! Instead I stupidly tried to reason with them!" Mary's voice had increased in volume and her emotions into hysteria. "I should have been able to protect myself! I feel useless, used, and dirty."

Mary sank into the nearest piece of furniture, a small overstuffed chair.

Francis stood in front of her, absolutely amazed at this woman he had been graced with the companionship of. "Mary, I promise you, this is not your fault. I will spend each day reminding you that you are strong, that you are worth everything I have, that you are a queen while those men are nothing. I will remind you each day that you are beautiful and pure until the only touch you can recall is mine, until the only breath you can feel ghosting over your skin in your recollection is mine, until you feel like you again. I will always be here, just take my hand."

He tentatively held out a hand toward Mary and they stayed frozen like that for so long that Francis had lost all track of time's passing. Finally, interminably slowly, Mary reached up a hand and gingerly linked their grasps.


	3. Three

3.

 _"He has feelings for you" Francis took the cloth Mary had been using to dab at his meager battle wounds, "and now everyone knows it." He looked away from his wife._

 _A note of incredulity filled Mary's voice, "And you think I encouraged him? Francis, have you not been hearing a word I've said. I can barely stand to touch my own husband." Mary emphasized the word, "why would I ever encourage another?"_

"Mary, I'm sorry to have to say this to you so soon, but as you are the strongest person I've ever known, I know that you can bear it." Francis continued to stare at the cloth, turning it over between his fingers, sure that he should turn these words over more carefully in his mind before saying them, but he had already started and there was no going back now. "Condé's feelings are clear for you, and regardless of your feelings for him, people will talk." Mary scoffed and turned toward the door. Francis stood, but made no move to block her exit. "When you give us an heir someday, as I have every faith you will, there will need to be no doubt about who that child's father is. Wars have started over less substance than these rumors would now have."

Francis clutched Mary's hand. "It is not right, it is not fair, but in the world we live in, rumors can jeopardize your life."

Mary raked her nails across his palm as she withdrew her hand of his. Furious, she exclaimed, "My life, but not yours. Oh you say you know it's not right or fair, but it is what it is! What I hear is you trying to tighten you grip on me- a man trying to rein in his woman!" Mary swiftly exited the room as Francis heaved a sigh.

This conversation had gone anything but the way he had wanted it to. He slowly walked out to his thrown and sat down heavily. Surveying the room, he noticed Mary and Lola both looking at him. Would Mary tell Lola of the words they had just exchanged? Silly thought, of course she would. The real question was if Lola would defend him or if she would be just as offended as Mary at his words and he would have to face her scorn as well the next time he went to visit his son.

He wished he could hear their end of the conversation.

* * *

Lola sighed as she looked over the crowded ballroom. It's true that there were a number of attractive potential suitors, but Mary was right. Her loyalty to the queen would come first and this would contain a threat. Plus, Louis of Condé was handsome, titled, and seemed far more scrupulous than his brother. "Yes, I'll talk to the Prince of Condé. Mary, you need to speak to Francis, though."

Mary huffed agitatedly. "Lola, you don't know what he's just said to me. It was completely out of line for a husband to speak to his wife that way. It was also completely unlike Francis. His jealousy and his pride. He all but accused me of infidelity and then warned me away from Louis under the guise of protecting me. He made certain to remind me that any indiscretion on my part could lead to execution, though."

Lola chuckled lightly and leaned against the pillar the two were half-heartedly hiding behind. "Mary, he's not wrong. Any indiscretion could lead to your execution and there would be very little Francis could do to stop it, even if it broke his heart. And you know this, why would you be upset at him for reminding you? And as for accusing you of infidelity, you say he 'all but accused' you, while over half of court right now is gossiping and outright accusing you. Mary, you know I love you and that you're my oldest friend, but I think it's possible that you're in the wrong here."

Mary allowed herself a quick moment to lean against the pillar and cross her arms against her chest. "As my oldest friend you're not supposed to take his side!" Straightening, Mary schooled her features. "If we were normal women of our age, we would be able to have this conversation. As it is, I have to acknowledge that you're right and go try to mend things, don't I?"

Lola took Mary's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You are my queen and I will support what you choose to do, but yes, I believe that would be your best choice."

Lola walked away, presumably to find Condé and Mary straightened non-existent wrinkles in her gown while she gazed up at her sullen looking husband.

* * *

Mary strode onto the dais that held the thrones of the king and queen during this festival, but didn't take her seat. "Francis, would you like to dance?"

Francis glanced up at her quickly. "The damage of the night has been done. I don't think a sham of a romantic dance between estranged spouses is going to do much good."

Feeling awkward standing on a raised platform that all of court could see, Mary gingerly sat upon her throne, but leaned as close to her husband as she could. "And what if the point is that said estranged wife wishes to apologize?"

Looking startled, Francis stood and offered Mary his hand, which she accepted with a smile. He led her down the steps and onto the dance floor. The couple sank into the familiar steps of a dance they had practiced a hundred times. "Francis, when we spoke earlier, what you said hurt me deeply. I took it as an accusation and that was hasty of me. Lola helped me to calm down and to see that it's entirely likely that you really are just looking out for me." Her voice dropped and took on a teasing nature, "that is something that has been known to happen between us."

Francis held her closer than absolutely necessary during a spin and Mary felt her heart flutter as it hadn't in quite some time. "Mary, I promise you that I was not trying to tighten my grip on you, or whatever it is you said," In fact, Francis would never forget the words she had hurled at him or the icy tone with which she had pierced him. He had been turning the conversation over and over in his head since taking his seat. How had he once again mucked up so badly when all he had been trying to do was to protect her? "I just want to make sure I do everything in my power to keep you safe. However, if you sensed jealousy in my words or demeanor, make no mistake, I am jealous of every man who has so much as asked you for a dance. My pride was wounded tonight when another man began speaking to me as though you were in his charge and care instead of mine. It is not my wish to claim you as my property, but it is my wish to claim you as mine, as opposed to another man's."

Mary stroked his hair, they had stopped dancing as the other couples around them were and had attracted many stares. "Francis, I am yours, no matter what has happened between us, I always will be." Looking quickly around at the attention they were garnering, Mary suggested, "Might I ask that we move this conversation to a more private venue?" Francis assented and led them through the crowd, back to the room they had only recently vacated.

Once the door was shut securely behind them, Mary spoke again, "Francis, when I asked that we lead separate lives, it wasn't out of spite or hatred of you. It wasn't even out of fear from what happened to me. When we rejoin our lives, I need to be healed so that we can rule together, be strong together, and conceive an heir to continue our legacy. I am incapable of any of that right now. It's too hard to be around you all the time, knowing that I am unable to do what I need to do as a ruler and as a wife. And while I am going through this, I would very much appreciate it if my husband trusted me. Trusted the vows I made to him, trusted that I won't betray him, and trusted me enough not to insinuate accusations against me."

In truth, she had not meant to say things that would cause him to become worked up again, but his lack of understanding infuriated her!

Francis, for his part, had the courtesy to look guilty. "I admit, I did not handle our earlier conversation well. I did not phrase my warning, and that is all I meant it to be, a warning, very well. I do trust you. I just can't bear the thought of you turning to another for the comfort you currently can't get from me, no matter how much I want to give it to you." He reached for her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. "I love you, Mary, and I will always honor our marriage. Please believe that."

Mary reached up to run her hand through his soft curls. "I still love you too, even if it doesn't always appear that way." Both took a deep breath, relishing in the moment of emotional intimacy that they hadn't shared in far too long. Mary took a steadying breath, "Shall we rejoin our guests?"

Arm in arm, the two monarchs walked back to the festival.


	4. Four

_A/N: I'm fully anticipating this chapter making some people angry. This seemed like the most logical solution to their problem._

4.

Mary twirled the goblet between her hands. Only moments ago, it had been filled with wine and a concoction that her mother had promised would make the anxiety of being around a man disappear for several hours.

When she had first approached Francis about trying this night, she had been unsure of if she was going to use it or not. Then the hour drew nearer and she knew she would need it. Still, she was unsure of when exactly she should take it. If she drank it before, it was removing Francis' choice in the matter and she, as well as anyone, knew that removing another's choice was wrong. However, she also knew that if she waited, explained her plan to Francis, well, that would have drawbacks as well. He would likely be unhappy with the idea and would not want her to drink it. On the off chance that he endorsed the decision, they would be sitting around waiting for it to take effect.

Mary decided to compromise with herself. She would take it only early enough so that it would be in her system when Francis arrived but that she would have time to explain it to him. He could choose to leave if he wished and they could try again another time.

She wasn't sure how long it would take, though. From earlier experience, she knew that it wouldn't take her long to get drunk. She applied similar logic to this and waited until what she considered to be the last possible minute before Francis would arrive. She had finished the cup only a few minutes previous to a loud knock on her door.

Mary hardly thought she needed to get up to answer it. Francis knew he was welcome in her chambers. He always had been and they had planned this. He did, indeed, enter without her coming to the doors or acknowledging his knock.

Francis hesitated, probably wondering why she was on the sofa rather than by her bed, but moved swiftly around the furniture and sat in an adjacent chair. "Mary, are you certain you want to try this? You don't exactly look ready."

Mary smiled up at him. No matter the state of their relationship, she could always count on him to be looking out for her. It was in stressful situations that he looked out for her in all the wrong ways, and often without consulting her- infuriatingly- but he did look after her and he did care. "Francis, I want to try, but before we do, I have a confession."

The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped. Mary sensed it without taking her eyes off of the chalice that she was still fiddling with. Looking up, she saw a stone-still Francis who looked quite like she had just given him a sharp knee to the gut. "Oh, Francis, not like that." The pain that crossed his face would mean that he had taken her word to mean that she was going to confess to an indiscretion. "If what you're thinking is that I'm about to admit to infidelity, you're wrong. Of my own volition, I've still only been with you." She reached out and touched the side of his face. He closed his eyes at her touch and rested some of the weight into her hand.

Opening his eyes, Francis smiled slightly, "Okay, what are you admitting to then?" Mary moved the hand from his cheek to grasp at his hand. And grabbed for the empty cup with her free hand.

"Francis, this is going to be extremely difficult for me. I know that someday I will heal and we will be able to try this confidently, but we don't have time to wait for that. My mother gave me some herbal help with that this afternoon." She smiled sadly between Francis and the last dregs at the bottom of the curve as she waited for her words to sink in.

Francis abruptly stood, dropping her hand in the process. "Mary, do you mean to say that you've drugged yourself?"

Mary looked at his growing agitation. She had expected that this might be his reaction, "In a manner of speaking, yes. I'm not trying to trick myself into sleeping with you and I'm not trying to slip it to you to force this. I'm merely helping my own unease at being alone with a man, no matter who it is."

Francis began to pace in front of her. "Mary, if you're not ready, you're not ready! I can accept that! Is being with me really so disagreeable, so repulsive that you have to alter your mental state in order to accomplish it? Mary! We used to be so in love and so in sync with each other that we would sneak through the very walls of this castle to be with each other and now you have to force yourself with, I don't even know what, in order to achieve it. If it came from your mother, you don't know what's in it or what it properly does! How did we get this far?"

Mary joined Francis on her feet, or at least, she tried. She suddenly found that standing wasn't as easy as it usually was. When she stumbled, Francis reached out to catch her as though it was a natural reaction. "Francis, as evidenced by my lack of grace, I believe it is starting to take effect. If you are that put off by it, then by all means leave. We can have this conversation and try again another day. However, if you can accept that I want to repair our relationship and that this is the fastest way to do so, then stay."

Francis looked to her, to his hand at her waist, which he had not removed from steadying her, and then to the door. Her heart sank as he looked to be considering leaving. "Mary, my Mary, before I take the time to really consider this and before your head becomes all the more clouded, are you sure you want this? I would hate to take advantage of you. I don't want to be someone you can't trust to do what's right."

He looked at her so earnestly. And oh gosh, he was so handsome! She couldn't stop a giggle form escaping her mouth. "I know that I may not be seeming so right now, but I was in a stable frame of mind when I drank it and invited you into my room. Invited you into my room! Ha! It sounds so scandalous! As if we aren't married. As if we aren't trying for an heir."

Francis smiled at her. Whatever Marie de Guise had given her, it wasn't just for her to be rid of anxiety, it was also making her more vivacious. She almost seemed as if she had simply had too much to drink. But Francis had seen Mary with too much to drink before, and this was not the effect it had on her. He began to speak, not entirely knowing what to say. On the one hand, Mary was not in the right state of mind. On the other, she had put herself in that state for the express purpose of reducing her fear of being with him. He knew better than to take that as a personal affront. She was scared of being around nearly any man. And the fact that she was here, with him, trying to convince him to take her to bed, instead of being in the presence of the only man Francis had seen her seem at ease with, spoke volumes of her commitment to him. "Mary…" He didn't know how to continue that, but it turns out that he didn't have to.

"I've missed hearing you say my name like that, Francis." Mary seemed sincere in her statement. Mary felt her heart flutter. Looking her husband up and down, she couldn't seem to remember why she was nervous around him to begin with.

Francis took a deep breath. His wife was beautiful. She was offering herself to him and had made the choice to take the drink. She was asking for this. She had made the decision and was inviting him into it. And how could he say no to his wife's seduction?

"Francis," Mary grabbed at the collar of his robe and gave him a playful smile, one he hadn't seen in too long. "Francis, kiss me. Please."

All of his resolve crumbled at that one word and Francis hungrily began kissing his wife's lips. He cupped the sides of her face as she raked her fingers through his hair. He stopped kissing her long enough to meet her gaze and then promptly lifted her up to carry her to the bed, barely breaking eye contact in order to deposit her safely against the pillows.

"Francis, please." Mary moaned as she leaned up to kiss along his jaw. Her touch sent flames coursing through his veins. He had been without her touch for so long. Even in this state, she remembered exactly where to kiss him to drive him wild and he could feel himself becoming aroused. Mary shoved the robe roughly off of his shoulders and reached for the laces on her own dressing gown.

Seeing more and more of her flesh revealed, Francis let out a groan and began to kiss along Mary's neck, making a path down to her chest.

Clothing continued to fall away and skin continued to find more skin that used to be so familiar and so comforting to each other. Both found that the eventual joining of their bodies felt like coming home after being gone for too long before drifting to sleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Several hours later, Mary awoke, feeling slightly groggy and surprised to find a solid, warm, weight across her chest. Opening her eyes, she found that the weight was Francis' arm, draped across her, with the owner of said appendage still asleep and snoring softly.

Mary laid and waiting for the panic to come, as it had the previous time the two had shared a bed. Francis hadn't even been touching her that time, but just the sound of his breath had nearly driven her mad listening to it.

She waited.

And waited.

The panic never arrived.

She twined her fingers with his and took comfort in the sound as she realized that maybe forcing herself into one night was all it was going to take. She tried to take stock of her body and mind, all while trying not to awaken Francis. She felt a familiar, but long-absent ache across her body and she was sure that certain areas would bear the mark of Francis' mouth if she examined herself more closely. But her mind seemed sound. She remembered everything from the hours before, but the grogginess was gone. The feeling as though she was observing her decisions rather than making them had left her. She sighed deeply, contentedly.

The movement awakened Francis. His eyes fluttered open and he found hers. He attempted to move his arm off of her when he realized what position they were in, but her fingers joined with his prevented the movement. "Mary, how are you feeling? Do you remember everything?"

Mary reached to entangle her fingers in Francis' curls. "I do. I remember everything. How are you? You were quite perturbed to begin with, but you gave in." Mary tried not to chuckle in case he was actually upset. In the view of some, you could say that Mary had coerced or tricked Francis. "Are you having any regrets?"

Francis looked deeply into Mary's eyes as they both reclined on their pillows. "If you were pulling away from me right now, yes, I would have regrets. As you are currently touching me more than you have in the last several weeks and we are lying in bed together, calmly, no. I'll not regret it if it worked to bring you back to me."

The two slowly got out of bed and dressed themselves, knowing that they had a party to attend yet this night, but they were both reluctant to leave this bubble they had created for each other.

As they neared the door, Francis lightly took hold of Mary's hand. "Mary, when we return to the castle tonight, may I have the honor of returning to this room with you?"

He waited anxiously for her response, he felt as though his heart had stopped until a smile graced her face. "I would like that, very much, Francis."

* * *

Over the course of the next several weeks, Mary and Francis continued to visit one another's chambers frequently, but they had not yet resumed a life lived fully together.

Mary pulled on the door and entered Francis' rooms as he was finishing up a letter. He looked up and smiled. He had not been expecting her this night, but any night that his wife wanted to spend with him, he would take.

"Mary, to what do I owe this pleasure tonight?" Francis stood from his desk and grasped Mary's hands, leaning in to give her forehead a quick peck.

Mary sat down on the edge of the bed and looked pointedly around the room, "Well, I was thinking that perhaps, I could move some of my things back into this room."

Francis smile more widely than he could remember in recent days, "I think that sounds like a splendid idea! May I ask what prompted this choice?"

Mary laid a hand on her stomach, "Well, I thought it might be rather awkward for us to raise our child from two different bedrooms."

Francis' questioning look soon left him and he lifted Mary from her perch, spun her around, and kissed her, deeply.


	5. Five

5.

 _"Francis, we need to talk." Mary looked unsure of herself and what she was about to do, but she knew that she absolutely needed to._

 _"I know" Francis' voice didn't sound normal. It sounded weak, strained. He continued to stand with his back to her. "I was going to come and find you, once I could bring myself to do it." He took a steadying breath, "I assume you're here about Condé."_

 _Mary also inhaled deeply, "In a way, yes." Mary shifted uncomfortably, still not sure where this conversation was going to go._

 _Francis shuddered once, "He is yours. You are free, to do as you please." The words wrenched themselves from Francis' throat, clearly causing him pain._

Mary was clearly confused, she had come to bargain with Francis about her relationship with Condé and about what his brother was planning, but Francis was suggesting something entirely different. What had changed? Her mind already racing about possible future plans, she barely heard Francis continue about being unwilling to cause her any more suffering, promising her what protection he could, his warnings to be careful and to avoid conception.

Her mind abruptly paused, she took in how upset Francis looked. She registered how much pain this must be causing him to say these words. She strangled out a pathetic apology. He repeated her own words back to her about one of them being happy and left the room.

Her heart felt lighter once she was no longer staring into the dejected eyes of her husband. She was going to be allowed to be with Louis and to stay at court without having to try to trick Francis! She began to rush down the hallway, determined to find Louis to tell him.

Each step brought a change in her demeanor, however. The excitement was draining, replacing it with an overwhelming sense of sadness that grew with each stride.

What was happening? When Louis was a choice she could not actually make, he had seemed so right. Why was she suddenly doubting this? Now that she actually had to make a choice between Louis and Francis, this all seemed so much more complicated. She found her feet steering her in another direction.

* * *

Mary waited impatiently after she knocked on Kenna and Bash's door. She knew that they also were not on the best of terms, but she needed someone to talk to. Greer was out of the castle. Lola and Francis shared a son and she knew that the two had grown quite close, so she didn't want to put Lola in an awkward situation. That left...

"Kenna!" Kenna opened the door and Mary was slightly regretful. She really wanted to talk to Bash. As Francis' brother he would want the best for Francis, but as someone who had once been willing to marry her, more than willing, he would not blindly steer her back to Francis. He would allow her to speak and work through her thoughts.

Kenna's smiling face faltered for a moment, apparently taking note of Mary's voice, though she had tried to cover her disappointment. "Good evening, I was actually hoping to speak with Bash, if I can pry him away from you for a few moments?"

Kenna's face fell even more at that, but she assented, "Sure, it's not like he actually wants to spend time with me anyway." She turned and beckoned to her husband. "Mary wishes to speak with you." Bash appeared behind Kenna and reached for a sword. Mary made a mental note to catch up with Kenna soon about what was going on between the two of them. "Mary, is everything all right?" The concern in Bash's voice was part of the reason that she knew she could trust him with this.

"I need to speak with you, if we could walk, please?" The two set off down the hall together, Bash securing the sword at his hip as they did so.

Mary was fidgeting and not walking with her usual grace or demeanor. This was not lost on Bash. "Mary, what is it? You've yet to say a word."

Mary finally clasped her hands to keep them stilled. "Bash, I need an impartial ear and voice in a matter that has become quite" she hesitated, how much did Bash already know? "awkward."

Bash let out a heavy sigh, "If you are speaking of the growing distance between you and my brother and your affiliation with the prince of Condé, I already know of it and of Francis' plan to alleviate your pain. Though you should know that I think it's dangerous and I'm not exactly a fan of that man's entire family, so I could hardly be called impartial."

Mary smiled at Bash as they walked. "You're protective of Francis, I know that. I've always known that. It's not our shared history that brought me to your door, it was a bit of advice I recall you giving to Francis early in our marriage. He asked what you do when you've the choice to be a bad husband or a bad king."

Bash smiled at the memory himself. He could stand to take his own advice with Kenna. "I said that the choice was simple and to be a bad king."

Mary nodded. "Yes, you did. That's why I know that I can trust you to be as impartial as anyone in this castle can be. You love us both and your sense of duty isn't tied to a title or an expectation, it's to people you love. And I don't expect you to be a fan of Louis, I hope that you can forget about who it is that we're discussing and think of just me."

He looked dissatisfied but dour at the prospect. "Well, I can promise to give it my best, Mary. What is it you want to discuss?"

"You said you know of Francis' plan to allow me to live the life I please as long as I'm careful?" Bash nodded. "I felt so guilty watching Francis say those words and processing what it meant that he was going to allow me to do. I also felt joy blossom up inside me. For a time."

Mary stopped walking and drew the two of them into a small, side corridor. "When I left, I was going to try to find Louis, but while walking, I was overcome with this sudden reluctance to see him. I love him, or at least, I think I do. He makes me happy in a way that Francis hasn't been able to and he makes me feel safe. I want this opportunity with him, but now that it's within my grasp, I can't bring myself to reach for it. Does this make any sense to you?"

Bash leaned against a wall and crossed one booted ankle over the other. "Mary, I would first like to point out that you are speaking of the man whose brother tried to kill me only days ago, so the notion of safety with him eludes me. Second, you are seeking love and fidelity advice from a man whose marriage is not only on the rocks at the moment, but whose entire marriage was orchestrated to keep him away from stealing you. I'm not saying I can't help, I'm just saying that Lola, Kenna, or Greer may be the better options."

Mary straightened up, "If you don't want to be here, then go. But I can't get to Greer right now, Kenna would automatically tell me to go with Louis no matter what the concerns are and Lola would do the same for Francis. I believe that you are level-headed enough to help me work through this, if you're willing."

Bash sighed and then flashed a smile at her. "Well then, how can I help? Do you know why you are reluctant to go to Condé? Because it sounds to me like you are still in love with Francis."

Mary scoffed and leaned against the wall along with Bash. "I don't know about my feelings for Francis anymore. I know that when I said he could be with any woman he pleased, I thought that I was doing it out of love. So much has gotten so confusing. I know that he loves me. I know that he'll do anything he can for me, as shown by this. By what he's allowing me to do. Do I love him? Can I spend the rest of our lives loving him? We've gotten so far off course. And then there's Louis."

Silence hung between the two for a time before Bash cleared his throat. "So, let me put this in a slightly different perspective for you. You and Francis were happy, then an incident occurred and new information was learned, by you, about Francis. This information made you push Francis away and you've ended up desiring another. However, now you're wondering which of these men you really love. Is that all right? Doesn't that sound the slightest bit familiar?"

Mary gasped as he laid it all out like that for her, "Oh, Bash, this is exactly what happened with you. Oh, I'm so sorry."

Bash pushed off from the wall and turned so that he was looking straight at Mary who was avoiding his eyes. A few tears had started to fall down her cheeks, though she was clearly trying to halt them. "I'm not asking for an apology, Mary. I'm asking you to think. To remember. To be stronger than you think you are now. To be as strong as you were the day that you chose me to save Francis and to be as vulnerable as the day you chose him when you realized you were free to follow your heart." Bash gently place two fingers under Mary's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "I'm asking you, if I were to give you a piece of paper right now, with the name of the man you're meant to be with on it, whose name would you want it to be?"

She looked up and wiped the last tear from her face. With a deep breath, she looked Bash square in the eyes and declared, "It's him. It's always been him, hasn't it?"

Bash straightened up and backed away from Mary. "I think you've some important conversations to have, even if they won't be easy."

He began to turn away, but Mary caught his arm at the last moment and turned him to face her. She tenderly cupped his face in her hands. "Bash, thank you. Thank you for being exactly who I needed you to be. Now, go. Go fix things with Kenna." Mary gave him a sad smile as his face darkened and he turned away from her.

* * *

Mary arrived at Francis' chambers and nodded at the guards. If they knew anything about the estrangement between the two, they weren't showing it and promptly opened the doors for her.

Mary looked around the room and saw that it appeared to be empty. Surely the guards would have let her know if he wasn't in here? She saw an empty bed, an empty divan, vacant desk, and a dying fire. Scanning the room once more before deciding to abandon it, she noticed a figure hunched over and sitting in a corner.

He wasn't watching her, but it was clear by his body language that he knew she was there. She had only traversed half of the room before his voice rang out in the silence. "Mary, please, just go. I don't have the strength to speak with you anymore tonight."

She paused. The words cut her deeply. She had always been one to bring comfort to her husband and one whose presence he sought out after particularly trying days when he didn't have the strength to speak with _other_ people anymore. However, she quickly decided that she had no room to complain about his words affecting her when she had repeatedly broken his heart.

She picked up her skirts and kept approaching her husband. Francis finally looked up at her completely. His bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes told her that he had been crying. The sight broke her down even more. This was her husband. This was the man who she had chosen to live her life with when she'd had the chance to choose someone else. This was Francis, whom she had spent countless hours with doing everything from normal married couple activities to late nights of political intrigue.

And now here he sat, looking broken.

Because of her.

When she was only a few steps away, Francis spoke again. "Really, Mary, if this is about Condé, I cannot bear it tonight. Just go."

Mary refused to retreat. She reached his side and sat down next to him on the stone floor. She settled her skirts around her and looked at him. She reached up and gently ran a hand through his hair. She had always loved his hair. She also knew that he found it to be comforting. "Francis, I need to speak with you. Please don't jump to conclusions. I need you to hear me out."

When her hand made contact, he had closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Even when Mary withdrew her hand, he remained. Mary took his silence as permission to continue speaking.

Mary took a steadying breath. There could be no going back after this. "Francis, I have considered your offer to court another man with your protection and I must decline." She moved her hand to play at the curls at the nape of his neck and to gently coax him into looking at her. "Francis, I can't leave you. I won't."

Francis gulped, trying to conceal his emotion. "But just this morning you were railing against me about your happiness and how unfair all of this is. What's changed in this amount of time? How do I know any of this is genuine?"

Mary withdrew her hand and folded both of hers together amidst the folds of her skirts. "This morning, I was looking at things differently. This morning, Louis was the safe, unattainable option for me to hide behind. This evening he was just as valid as you are and that helped to turn my eyes away from the injustice of it all and to truly see your suffering for the first time. I've been so angry at you for what's happened and then I've been so angry at how unfair our society is that I was shutting myself away from you. When you granted me permission to be with him, I felt overjoyed at first. As I walked farther from you, I began to feel more and more sullen about the whole experience and I found myself at Bash's door instead of at Louis'.

The confusion was etched back into Francis' face, "Bash?" Francis began twisting his fingers in nervous agitation, watching their movements. When Mary didn't continue, he looked back up at her, "Mary, you've left me for my brother once already, you can't leave it hanging there."

Mary felt ashamed that she had let irrational thinking, and her own rationalizations, nearly destroy her relationship with Francis, not once, but twice. She could not meet his eyes as she continued. "He helped me to see that this situation was very similar to that occurrence. I was scared of a situation involving you, I ran to another, I put our relationship in jeopardy, and then I felt confusion about who I wanted to be with."

From the pocket of the folds of her skirts, Mary pulled out a piece of paper, folded neatly in half. She handed it to Francis, "Open it," she said.

A smile was slowly crossing Francis' face as he reached for the slip.

A brilliant smile was already splitting Mary's face as she waited for him to reveal the contents.

He looked up at her, looking brighter than he had in weeks, "it's blank." Francis sniffled and swiped at his face before beginning to laugh, "It's nothing."

Mary joined in his laughter, also wiping a stray tear from her own cheek. "You let me decide. You gave me the freedom to see what was truly in my heart." Francis reached for her hand and twisted their fingers together. Mary continued. "You. It's you. It's always been you."

Francis cupped her cheek in one hand and, slowly, giving her time to pull away, kissed her. She responded and deepened the kiss.

Pulling back, Francis rested his forehead against hers, "I believe last time I asked if you would marry me. That doesn't quite fit here, does it? Mary, does this mean you'll stay with me?"

Mary ran both of her hands through his hair, settling them at the back of his head and neck. She wasn't even trying to stop the tears now, much like she hadn't in the hallway the first time they had spoken the words to each other. "Yes!"

Francis tenderly ran his hand down the side of her face, relishing that he was able to do this again, and then, he softly went in for another kiss.

 _A/N: I've still got the "and one" chapter to write. This whole thing came from a request I received to write about a Frary baby and related situations. I really don't know where that chapter is going, so I apologize in advance for how long that one is going to take to post._

 _I hope you've enjoyed this journey with me for these five possible times they could have re-directed themselves into happier times!_


	6. And One

~One~

 _"I should argue against it, for your safety. But we will get one chance and we must not fail." Francis and Bash hurried through the castle. The carriage carrying the man who would lead them to Montgomery was being stalled, but for how long?_ They needed to make one quick stop first and then they would hopefully, God willing, be ending this madness.

Bash peeled away from Francis, "I will alert Kenna and meet you at the stables. Remember, you don't have time for a tearful goodbye, and you won't be needing it. We can do this.

Francis nodded once and began scanning the main hall for Mary or his mother. He found Mary putting the finishing touch on a decoration for a table. "Mary, I need you to come with me, quickly."

Mary looked startled, "Francis, what is it? What's happened?"

"Mary, there isn't time. I need you to come with me and we need to find my mother. Kenna will be meeting with us and she knows the plan. You must come. Now!"

Not used to her husband speaking to her like this, Mary almost refused, but the urgency in his eyes wasn't anger, it was fear. He was imploring her to come, so she did, without protest. On their way out of the room, they spotted Catherine and with a quick bark of "Mother, come!" she joined them as they hurried down the hall. Francis' strides were so long and swift that the women had to lift their skirts to keep up.

They rounded a deserted corridor on the way to the stables and Francis slowed, turning to face the two slightly out-of-breath ladies. "Mary, Mother, I have done something that, though I wouldn't change it, has caused quite a bit of difficulty for us all and tonight I hope to tie up the last loose end and put a stop to the lunacy once and for all. In order to do this, I need to keep the two of you safe. Bash is meeting us at the stables with Kenna. She has been sworn to secrecy since Bash and I conceived this plan, Mary you cannot be angry with her for keeping it from you. She has known that it is for your own protection. She will fill you in once you are at the safe-house that she knows to bring all of you to. Some of your belongings are already there. We must hurry." Francis made to take off down the hall, but Mary grabbed at his arm.

"Francis wait, what plan? What decision? I don't understand any of this. Why can't you tell us?" Mary seemed near tears. In truth, she had so many ideas of what Francis might have done zooming through her mind that she could barely keep her focus on his speech.

"Mary, I can't tell you. I will once this night is over, but right now, it's safer for you not to- "

Francis was cut off by his mother. "Mary, isn't it obvious? He's referring to the fact that he was the one under the armor who really killed Henry. As if we both didn't already know." She looked from one to the other, looking quite a pleased as a cat with a canary before her face morphed into one of disappointment at the ones staring back at her.

Francis and Mary both looked at her in shock. "What? Did you not know, my dear? A mother knows the way that her son walks, I thought a wife, with as close as you two had grown, would know as well. Now come, if he has a place he wants us to be so that we can all get on with our lives, then let's be off."

The trio continued on their way to the stables where Bash had two horses saddled and Kenna was waiting beside a carriage. Francis turned to Mary, " _I know you're still angry with me_ , and now confused as well, _but just, let me look at you_." Several moments passed as the two locked eyes, but the clearing of Bash's throat brought them back to reality. Mary rushed forward and crushed her lips to his, so briefly.

"Francis, come back to me. You must." Francis nodded once and mounted his horse. He and Bash were off faster than she thought possible.

* * *

"Mary, come, quickly." Kenna and Catherine were both in the carriage already. Once settled inside, the carriage driver started them on a winding path into the country-side. "Now, I don't know what Francis was able to tell you on the way here, but I'm so sorry for keeping this from you Mary. I told Bash that you deserved to know. He assured me that if this becomes public, you needed to know nothing, whereas it was unlikely that anyone would even think of questioning me as my connection is too far removed."

Mary took Kenna's hand. "You were following a promise that you made to your husband, I understand why you didn't say anything, Kenna." Turning to Catherine, she continued, "What I can't understand is why you didn't. We had been working together so well and this is fairly important information!"

Catherine briefly held her hands up in mock surrender. "I thought that surely Francis would have told you, as his wife! I didn't realize I needed to tell you. And since I thought you knew, I didn't think there was any more to say on the matter. What? Over porridge, you wanted me to lean over and whisper, 'Francis killed his father and is being blackmailed by Narcisse, please pass the blueberries.'?"

Mary's mouth had dropped open at the mention of Narcisse. "There's more to this, then?"

Kenna shot Catherine a look and then picked up the story. "Mary, none of these decisions that Francis has been making against his Protestant countrymen have been his full intent. He's been blackmailed with accusations of regicide by Narcisse. All of these problems between the two of you recently have been because of that. If something happens tonight, Francis wanted to make sure you knew. We are to wait at this location until we hear something: either Bash and Francis will come for us, or we are sure to hear of regicide and patricide charges and from then there is a contingency plan for the two of us to disappear and for Catherine to return, become regent, and start preparing Charles as the proper king-to-be."

Leaning back against the padding of the carriage, Catherine looked impressed. "My my, they did do an excellent job of planning for failure. I wonder if they put as much into planning what they plan to do to reverse the damage and division if they succeed."

Kenna and Mary said nothing and the three sat in an uncomfortable silence the rest of the way to their safe-house for the night.

* * *

Kenna got up to check window for perhaps the fifteenth time since they had entered the small cottage 4 hours ago. Catherine was reading by the firelight. Mary had been staring into the fire and praying for the majority of that time. She was reflecting on all that she had done over the past weeks that had put Francis in such an awful position and all of his actions that made so much more sense now. If only he had just told her what was happening! They could have found a way around Narcisse together! Now here she was, worrying and praying, waiting for his return so that she could know what her next steps would be. Would she continue to be queen or would she have to fade into a simple life, with naught but Kenna privy to her previous identity. Would she become a widow so soon?

An exclamation from Kenna roused her from musings and prayers, "Riders! I can't see who, it's far too dark by the moonlight. Someone is coming, though."

It was too late to extinguish the fire if it wasn't a friendly group of visitors, but there were knives in the cottage and Kenna and Mary each went to grab one. Catherine clutched the fire poker as one would a sword. Each woman silently took a hiding spot, hoping to catch an enemy by surprise, if it was indeed an enemy.

The hoof-beats became deafening as the three women waited in silence. Why had they not brought a guard? The riders dismounted and the three lowered their weapons as they recognized the voices outside. The door was thrown open and Mary flung herself into Francis' arms. He looked over Mary's shoulder and began to chuckle as he noticed that his mother was holding a fire poker and then registered the knife that had clattered to the floor near his wife's feet.

"Well, I'm glad that you three weren't going to be sitting ducks if we had not been the two of us." He said on a laugh.

Bash was right behind him, a smile playing at his lips as he embraced Kenna, also taking note of the blade that she still had in her hand. "And if I displease you, should I know of your knife-wielding skills, my dear?"

Kenna adopted a pouting face, "At least we had the courage to scrounge up weapons, you didn't give us a signal so that we could be expecting you!"

Catherine deposited her weapon next to the hearth and locked eyes with her son. "Is it done, then? Are we all safe to return to the castle? Not that I felt completely safe here in this hovel you sent us to. Will you now tell us why we had to come all the way out here instead of simply staying safely in the castle, surrounded by guards? Even if you had failed, I would have gotten Mary out and safely away if you had not returned. We needn't have gone out on this bone-chilling night."

Bash and Francis traded a dark look.

Bash was the one to break the silence. "Actually, though our mission was a success, a rider intercepted us as we made our way here. There was an attack on the castle. We don't have all the details yet, but at the time he was dispatched, no serious injuries had been reported."

Catherine was already fastening her cloak. "And here we sit, looking like we knew there would be an attack at court and we hid without warning anyone. Come, we have damage control to do."

* * *

When all had been settled, the court patrons satisfied with the explanation given to by Mary and Francis, and stock taken of exactly what these Protestant extremists had wanted out of their attack, Mary found herself alone in her room with her husband and feeling welcome there for the first time in weeks.

Francis sat down heavily beside her. "Mary, I know it seems excessive now that I kept this from you for so long and that tonight I moved you to a safe-house, but I did it all for your protection. I needed to keep you safe even if I couldn't keep myself safe. When I learned that you and mother conspired to poison my father as he took the Eucharist, it sealed that I couldn't have you knowing what I had done. It would have incriminated you and you would have lost your head as well. And as for tonight, it turned out to be unnecessary, but as I was the target, I'm so glad you weren't here." He reached for her hand, "If you had been here, and had been in this room, who knows what they might have done to you." He gently kissed each knuckle. "I love you, so very much, Mary."

Mary held his face in her hands and really looked at her husband, without resentment, without questioning his motives, for the first time in weeks. "I love you too, Francis. And I'm sorry for making this entire ordeal harder on you. I realize that working against me, especially when you didn't wish to had to have been hard on you." She leaned forward to kiss him.

He deepened the kiss.

She moaned and leaned into his touch.

He broke the kiss and led them to their bed.

* * *

1 year, and 9 months later.

"Claude, the former kitchen boy? You're in love with him?" Francis listened incredulously to his sister asking him for his permission, as the king to marry far below her station. An order from the king would prevent their mother from being able to deny her daughter this.

Claude's voice got higher and she leaned into her big brother, "Oh, Francis, please! You know him! You were the one who fought with him and gave him lands after the war! Francis, you must- "

But Francis never heard what he must do as at that moment, he heard a shout from his wife, "Francis! Come! Quickly!" from inside the room that Claude had pulled him from to plead her case.

Both Francis and Claude rushed in to find Mary, still seated on the floor next to a pile of toys and Anne, the one-year old princess taking teetering, tentative steps toward a ball that had rolled closer to the door.

The moment her light blue eyes registered her father standing just beyond the ball, a smile lit up her face and she started to move more quickly toward him. The extra speed came at the cost of balance and she began to wobble and then fall. Francis reached down and caught her just as she was about to land on the rug.

Sweeping his child into the air and settling her against his side, the brightest smile imaginable had formed on his face. "Anne, my baby was just walking toward me!"

Mary had gotten to her feet and was joining them in cooing over Anne's face. Gently running her fingers through the child's head of dark curls, she began speaking in the voice reserved for her child, "and then you got so excited seeing daddy that you wanted to learn to run. I think we'll save that lesson for another time."

Claude chimed in, "According to mother, I went straight from standing to running, and of course my niece takes after me in looks and brains, so, naturally she'll be a genius!"

Francis bounced the little one on his hip, "She's my beautiful daughter, and she'll be perfect, just like her mother." He allowed her chubby little hand to wrap around his finger and he planted light kisses on the back of it as he leaned down to collect the ball she had been after. A delighted squeal escaped from the small girl.

Mary knew that Francis didn't get as much time with his daughter as he generally wanted, so she took Claude by the arm and said, "Come, let us discuss your strategy about how you're going to tell your mother that you plan to marry Leith and leave these two be."

Francis looked up at his wife and sister and declared to their retreating forms, "I haven't agreed to anything yet!"

Mary winked over her shoulder, "But you will" and then she and Claude exited the play room and shut the door.

Francis sat down in a rocking chair by the window, daughter still safely in his arms and squeezing at the ball he had given to her. "What are we going to do with your mother, hmm? I have never been able to deny her much of anything."

Anne looked up at him and tilted her head, causing a lock of hair to fall across her forehead. Francis tucked it back behind her ear. He needed to ask Mary to teach him how to tie Anne's hair back into a bow now that it was getting longer. Mirroring what he had just done, Anne reached up for the curly hair on her father's head. "Dada!" and then dissolved into giggles.

This was not the first time he heard Dada come from her mouth, but as they neared her first birthday, it was coming with increasing accuracy and she was no longer calling Bash, the stable boy, Narcisse, or any other passing male 'Dada' it had now come to be reserved just for him. Each time, his heart melted at her little voice. He should have known from the moment that he first saw her, but it had taken until the first time that he heard his title come from her little mouth to fully realize that he was done for. With two beautiful women whom he loved so much, there would be nothing he could deny either of them.

"My little Anne." He held her up so that she was balancing on his thighs, careful to not let go of her hands, he began to gently bounce her. Her laughter drove him utterly mad. The door opened and he ceased his movements, but that did not stop Anne's giggling.

Mary came into the room, a smile on her face at the scene she had found.

"Oh, are you and my sister done scheming already? I thought that conversation would take much longer." He stood up and passed their child to Mary, who eagerly took her and began bouncing her in the air.

"Come on, Mama, say 'Mama' for me, my sweet girl." Although 'Dada' had come quickly to the little one, she was more likely to say 'no' or 'hunry' her word meaning she wanted food, than to say 'mama,' much to Mary's chagrin and Francis' delight.

Wrapping his arm around Mary's shoulders, Francis chuckled, "I've told you, she inherited her mother's knack for bewitching men. She has no use for 'Mama' just yet."

Mary turned to look at Francis, planting Anne on her hip. "Well, maybe next we'll have a boy. Then little James can learn to say my name first and I'll be his favorite just as you're Anne's."

At this sentence, as though she understood the words, she began squirming in Mary's arms and reaching for Francis. He laughed but took her. "Then I had better watch out! Although I'm not sure how we'd handle two of you running around like this." Francis tickled at Anne's stomach until the small girl was giggling so hard that her cheeks turned pink. "I suppose we'll figure it out someday."

Mary gently laid a hand on her stomach. "Someday is closer than you think, Francis." A smile that she had clearly been trying to hide split her face as she waited for the meaning to hit her husband.

"Mary!" He clutched Anne to his side as he wrapped his other arm around Mary's waist and brought her to him for a kiss. "You're going to give me a second child. I love you, Mary. I love you more than I can say. And I love our family." He hugged the two women who meant the world to him tightly to his sides, not knowing how he could possibly feel more love than this, but at that instant, knowing that he did, as he already loved their child growing inside of his wife.

Mary sighed and held out a hand for Anne to grab. "I love you too, Francis, and I'm so grateful for all of the choices that we've made, even the hard ones, that have brought us here."


End file.
